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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241700">Prodigal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurachan811/pseuds/sakurachan811'>sakurachan811</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Metal Family (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Italics, Miscarriage, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:40:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurachan811/pseuds/sakurachan811</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When his sister calls him to tell him their father died, all he can feel is relief.</p><p>Glam doesn’t find out he’s a father for the third-first time until he's well over 40. </p><p>It’s not the kind of thing you look up out of the blue. Glam has avoided searching for his own name since he ran away. So he doesn’t know, couldn’t possibly know, and when the news comes out it’s worse than being disowned.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sebastian Shvagenbagen/Victoria, Sebastián Shvagenbagen/Lydia Shvagenbagen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His sister was not a woman of lightheartedness. She was beautiful and cold Her smile never laughed, her gaze languished as if she were too tired to exhibit signs life. She was often rude or dismissive, but her manners were impeccable. she was a person, known and envied by many, yet no one could understand.</p><p>He knew what she was like before. Before "it" happened that is. He knew who she really was. Glam remembered. Glam remembered Lydia. Her sadness had made her cold. Her despair never showed the way one would think, but he could see the drowning soul behind her blue eyes. It all comes crashing down in a single day, all of Glam’s veils of normalcy. We shared interwoven parts of each other both seen and unseen.</p><p>He keeps his cool almost effortlessly, because he’s a Shvagenbagen, even now. Ever the gentleman, he escorts his sister to the door, he opens it for her and waits for her to enter. He refuses to think about that alcohol soaked half remembered night. He fails miserably. A muscle in his jaw jumps, but he does not look away. She tilts her head as if to say 'still? and the message is clear.</p><p>He turns, strides off to give instructions to the chauffeur.(He <em>will</em> provide for his wife and mate's comfort)</p><p>When he introduces his sister to his wife and mate. He thinks 'look Lydia, please everything is fine, look you could be <em>happy</em>.' On the drive there her disdain is clear. They sit close enough to touch, almost. (Her words burn, irritation over her disapproval of his choice and her lingering guilt.)</p><p>At the proceeding When he sees the seat next to Lydia was filled, customarily for the inheritors firstborn. He thinks 'no surely not. Lydia would have told him.'</p><p>(Right?)</p><p>They were blonde almost criminally so, wavy hair, a fine bone structure, with bright blue eyes, Shvagenbagen blue to be exact. (He sees them every day when he looks in the mirror) about seventeen years old. (His math matches, no no no NO <strong>NO</strong>-)<br/>His child?<br/>His pup, why didn't she tell him?</p><p>He would have come running, is that not what she wanted? He should have pushed her harder, contacted her anytime before then. How did she hide her pregnancy? Did she not hide it at all? Was it difficult on her? His own pregnancies had been hard on him. He had Victoria, his mate. She had no mate to lean on. Of course she's angry, he doubts father would have approved of his unwed and unmated daughter having a <strong><em>child</em></strong>.</p><p>Did he know? (<strong>DidheknowDidheknow</strong>)</p><p>His name is called and then the box, pen to paper.</p><p>(The box held all his most precious things)</p><p>"What is <strong><em>this</em></strong>?"</p><p>His heart sinks all the way to his toes, shatters on the floor.<br/>'No, <em>please.</em>' he thinks.<br/>"Courting gifts, How dare you accept such things without permission, in my house!" He bellows.<br/>"No son of mine, acting in such a manner"<br/>"Sebastian do you hear me?"<br/>"<strong>Whore</strong>!"</p><p>Her words were cruel and bitter, he has no doubt that if her restraint was less he'd be presenting his belly in front of his aunts and uncles, various cousins. As it is he bares his throat in suprise, he feels rather than hears Victoria's answering growl.</p><p><em>They</em> stand behind her, silent all the while.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At night when his wife reaches for him in their bed he turns away. He doesn't avoid his wife's questions, he answers openly, thoughtlessly.<br/>("It is nothing Victoria, they were simply frustrated over a prior claim on the inheritance.")</p><p>It's no use, after a few months of pressing the memories down, down. There's a knock at the door and he's so tired.<br/>"Dee would you-"<br/>"Yeah, yeah."</p><p>Things have been strained between father and son, he can't really pin down when it happened. He had always been so close-<em>dependent</em> on his parents, remembers being very small, pressed to his father’s side. Nestled against his rounded stomach, Glam's hand resting on his head. The sound of his mother's rumbling voice lulling him down for a nap.</p><p>He didn't know what he was provoking, the <em><strong>guitar</strong></em>- his father. It was the only time his father <em>ever</em> snarled at him, suddenly he'd realized how dangerous constantly pushing his parents, his father was. He's still so angry, why can't he just play the guitar, everything else was always so <strong><em>easy</em></strong>, then as if the whole world was playing some cosmic joke, fucking <em>Heavy</em> can play the guitar like he's a goddamn savant.</p><p>He opens the door, sees <em>someone</em> standing in the doorway, they're maybe a few years older than him, tall and compact. Shoulder length blonde hair, eyes so blue they burn. They looked like a distorted reflection of himself, if he were older, didn't have freckles and was far more androgynous. For all his fathers looks in that respect he took after his mother.</p><p>(What a preppy looking wasp. <strong>Ugh</strong>.)</p><p>"Good afternoon, I'm here to see Sebastian Shvagenbagen, is he home?"<br/>"No-"</p><p>He sees his dad turn the corner and stop. He's never seen his father go so pale.<br/>"Dad-"<br/>"I'll be in my office with our guest."</p><p>The preppy snob steps into their home like an afterthought.</p><p>"Fine." Dee closes the door.</p><p>Glam shuts the door behind him while his son, daughter-child guest, takes in his study. He knows better now than to assume gender based on something as basic as clothing. They don't look at him, they look at the walls, his accolades, the papers on his desk. He knows the exact moment their eyes snag on the violin. Their gaze becomes calculated, assessing, they sit in the proffered chair, all one fluid motion.</p><p>"Are you well father?" they ask, voice all smooth low tones.</p><p>"Yes, I am." he answers, he wants to ask them why they're here, why now? How was Lydia? Did she have any issues in raising them? Did <strong>father</strong> know? Where they raised the same way? He presses his lips into a fine line, says none of these.</p><p>(He doesn't see a <em><strong>collar</strong></em> on their neck.)<br/>Lydia would never do those <em>things</em>, Lydia had protected him, Lydia had comforted him, Lydia vouched for him against their father and he-<br/>He ran away from all of <strong><em>it</em></strong>. Even though he knew father was <strong><em>hurting</em></strong> her<em><em>. <strong>Why</strong> didn't she go with him?</em></em></p><p>"I'm here to ensure that you receive this message." Straight to business this one, he knows Lydia, and he knows that if she could be here she wouldn't want to be subjected to the scent of his pack, of pups that aren't hers.</p><p>"Mother gives her regards, you are always welcomed in her territory, son of Gustav Shva-"</p><p>"You may go." He stands, as he would for any audience.He watches their eyebrows pinch, their mouth twitch, then smooth out at once. "I shall see myself out then." They stand tall and walk with even strides out of his office. He sits at his desk in the resulting silence and just breathes for a long, long time.</p><p>He didn't even get their <strong>name</strong>.</p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lydia is twenty-four, and she's so very tired.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lydia is warm and comfortable in a too firm bed laden with a familiar sweet scent. She rolls over and burrows deeper, breathing it in as deeply as possible. She feels the blankets shift to settle about her body, she doesn't want to wake up. She just wants to enjoy this moment as long as possible, they're getting far too old for this kind of thing. Sebastian was in her bed again, she really shouldn't let him keep doing that. She's getting closer and closer to doing something especially stupid, like kissing him right on his prim mouth, or like licking a line up his proud throat. Like inviting herself into his room, opening him up all sweet and slow, and just taking everything his body had to offer her.</p><p>Wait... Sebastian stopped crawling into her bed ages ago.</p><p>Years.</p><p><em>Wait</em>.</p><p>This isn't her bed and this isn't a dream.</p><p>She sits up, cringing against the midmorning glare, ow. God how much did she have to drink last night? She's sore everywhere, her head hurts and she's covered in of sweat and musk. Lydia remembers the bar last night, she was drunk and he was drunker. They had some kind of depressed drinking contest. Her kissing him, her leaving him, Glam following her, the drunken stumbling to his apartment. Having sex with Glam. She really wishes he had been her first. He'd always been a good soul, too good for this family. Glam looks like he's having some kind of attack, she's torn between staying and comforting him or leaving him to if she's the cause of it. She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to go back to the mansion after having had the comfort of a den.</p><p>The <em>look</em> on his face when she had been getting her clothes was hollow and gone, the look of a man who would jump off a building. It's almost enough to make her stay. She doesn't want to drag him back into their broken- fractured pack. He'd left them, left her and she should respect his choice. When Lydia returns from Glam's apartment she's still sore, still <em>sated</em>. For the first time in years she smells like her baby brother, she itches with the urge to rub his pheromones off onto a piece of fabric, something. She doesn't think she'll ever see him again, she should do something to preserve his scent.<br/>
(<strong>Mistake, </strong>her brain chants<strong>. Mistake, mistake, mistake</strong>-)</p><p>She'd only gone to tell him that mother had died, father was sick, and that she was willing to give him his due when father had passed. Not spill that father had continued to <em>dominate</em> her in that way. Not have him ask if anything came from their father's vile abuse. It had only once, when she realized she'd turned her claws on herself, she hadn't wanted to live, to bear existing anymore. It was after Sebastian had ran away, her one source of comfort ripped out of her hands, leaving her more alone and vulnerable than she had ever thought possible. She couldn't stop blubbering like a damn child, the collar of her blouse was damp with her tears.</p><p>That very night her father had entered her bedroom, whisky on his breath and his large cruel hands. She'd fought him like she hadn't in years. She snarled a warning, the deepest she could muster, it sounded weak to her own ears. She clawed at his arms aiming to shred the delicate skin to ribbons. She bit him bloody and kicked at his ribs. He growls at her attempts, pins her down and rips at her clothes, she makes him bleed for every thrust. The burning pain of being forced to take her father's knot, her skinny wrists pinned together with bruising force. The mental agony as he whispered into her ear that that was what she was made for, that she looked just like her mother, that she only had herself to blame. 

</p><p>After it, she lays there and just pretends for a while. If she'd left with Sebastian....if she left Sebastian....Why didn't he take her with him? Is it because she didn't show she loved him enough? If he came back for her she would do so much more than she did to show she cares. She wouldn't be dishonest to him ever again.She'd wasted so much time pushing him away, she wouldn't waste the chance he'd give her. She would be able to encourage his musical pursuits. She'd use her considerable wealth to provide him with anything and everything he wanted. If he didn't want that, that was fine too. There were other ways that she could offer her support, she could learn how to cook. She still remembers all of his favorites after all this time. Cleaning their den wouldn't be too difficult. She could give him as many pups as he'd like, she could anything for him.</p>
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